


Prince of the Brotherhood

by Nemi_Thine



Category: Thor (2011), X-Men Evolution
Genre: Brotherhood of Mutants, Community: norsekink, Creative Punishments, Crossover, Emotional Manipulation, Lies, Loki is a Teen Mom, Loki is a troll, Multi, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Other, Teen!Loki, Violence, Warning: Loki, X-Men Crossover, loki is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-05-31
Updated: 2012-06-10
Packaged: 2017-11-06 11:23:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/418339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemi_Thine/pseuds/Nemi_Thine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Those of the higher realms take a long time to mature, their childhoods strung out into centuries to the year.</p><p>Loki takes his revenge for a long ago slight, and Odin decides to send him away to Midgard so he can learn what it means to go without, to depend on others and scrape at the edges.  To be hungry.</p><p>Yet, Loki is a child, quick witted besides, he must be kept from turning it all to his advantage, and Odin is not willing to strip even more knowledge from his adopted son's mind.  So his heritage is revealed gently, and told it will keep him safe from the biting winters.  His powers will return as he becomes more worthy, and he will return to Asgard as a Prince ought.</p><p>The People of Midgard, well some of them are more accepting than others.</p><p>A norsekink fill posted in order and edited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Descent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter altered, No reference to Brokkr, because it actually hasn't happened.

Loki remembered.

He remembered what he done, the breaking of looms and spinning wheels pulled taunt by too strong thread.

It was not his fault. He had merely offered magic thread, stronger and softer than any other, to the various ladies, ones that had laughed at him ages ago.

Loki remembered.

Loki remembered how he put out foul herbs to make all food bitter and sour and inedible. He remembered how he packaged these just so to make them look of great worth, bought at high price. He remembered how he had changed his voice and suggested that they use it in the great feast that night, and dropped it into the mead himself.

Loki remembered how they had all gagged, and spat out their food, and their mead and went hungry for a night as he had for days.

Loki remembered just one too many feasts in his brother's honor, booming voices shouting over his own acomplishments, his voice called shrill and womanly. He remembered that no matter what he did, what his intentions were, it wasn't ever enough. He remembered women tittering behind their hands at him, too thin and slim, but rounded in the wrong places and scant on muscle. He remembered hating them all.

Loki remembered his father leading him away towards Bifrost. How he spoke of interdependence, need, each person filling a place. He spoke of humility, and depending on others and going without.

He did not speak of kindness, instead he spoke of patience, couched in such terms Loki almost thought Father was speaking of mercy.

Mercy was anathema, it was unworthy of a warrior--to show mercy and potentially condemn them to a peaceful death instead of rebirth as an Einherjar, or amongst their own people?

(Of course, he probably shouldn't shy away from giving his daughter more followers.)

Still, he listened to his father attentive to his lessons as he was in all things. To finally have father's attention!

And in the secrecy of Heimdall's observatory father put his hands on Loki's shoulders and told him what he was going to do.

Loki would survive, he would learn, he'd learn humility and fellow feeling and patience and what it was to be without (he already knew that one) and whatever else his father wished him to do. Even without his powers, he would earn them back.

Father had almost smiled, and explained something else to him.

It would keep him safe from the cold, Odin had explained. From dying. He was old enough to know now. To keep the secret safe. To know he was still Loki Odinsson.

Loki remembered.

He remembered his father reaching into his mind and plucking out knowledge, smoothing it over and hiding it in shadow. Making him forget how to use his powers. Dark, puissent; frightening and as comforting as an old heavy blanket. Hiding him from the Jotens and the Jotens from his eyes at the same time.

But then it was gone and he was more alone than he ever had been, the songs of the worlds muffled and distant, his eyes blind, his fingers dead.

Loki left on the Bifrost with only three people to see him off, and none more to shame him.

He was thankful to his father.

For a time he had lived wild.

But then he was found.


	2. Phone Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki can't hide himself anymore, and he knows of one pair of eyes that are upon him, who's lips have the ear of his father.
> 
> Surely Odin asks after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic originally started as a series of minifills. So some of the chapters are going to be exceptionally short. Like this one.

He liked the name of this place. He liked the people here who were nothing like at home and didn't pretend to be his friend, just accepted him because he was.

He liked that he made friends with them, that he helped them and played with them, even if he couldn't go to school with them yet.

He liked that they were his friends, and not Thor's.

It was too wonderful to not to share.

Loki ran into the back yard and stared up at the distant stars, "Heimdall?" He called up, and looked almost pensively for a sign that he was seen. But that didn't matter, Magneto had clapped him on the shoulder today, not for skill in the field but for a craft design in Midgard's technology.

"I understand now, Heimdall. Will you tell my father for me?" He hugged himself and smiled. "He just wanted me to be happy, and he gave me a family that fits. So will you please tell him? Tell him thank you!"

Loki smiled at the sky as he never did in Asgard, his head tilted towards the warmth he still felt on his shoulder when Magneto had touched him.

"Oy! Blue butt! Get your ass back in here, we're playing MarioKart!"

"Coming!" He grinned once more, bowed deeply, and ran back inside.


	3. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mostly new chapter, extended form of some of Magneto's thoughts on Loki and Emma Frost is more than just mentioned.

The god had been hard to find. There was no booming voice, no burning bush, no monstrous angels to lead the way, and no Cerebro to pick up on those strange uses of power.

Not that Cerebro would have necessarily picked up on it, but it was a possibility.

In the end what allowed Loki to be found in the cold north was a combination of luck, favors, and perhaps providence. 

Definitely providence. From the beginning he knew this one would be special.

Theft was common for orphans, especially mutant orphans who could not beg lest they be attacked, or might have powers helping them to practice their cons. Sometimes Erik wondered if the old folk practice of leaving out food for elves was brought into being by early mutants.

The people of Haugrtoft certainly took it up to keep the ice spirits from their homes and to guide lost ones back home. Antiquated, but it had picked up in recent months for various reasons.

Not in the least were the thefts

Malice befell some people, and the rumors Emma plucked from their heads indicated that many of these men were wife beaters or child abusers. A boy who was known for tormenting dogs was lost in the forest for days before he made it back home.

Emma shivered at the nightmare memories of dogs at his heels and ice at his footsteps, and the ice plinths with eyes and knives that guided him home.

Whomever it was that was taking the offerings, for that was what they were, had turned his nose up at poisoned and drugged offerings (Emma knew, though none would admit). In recent weeks not only had the food been eaten, it had been moved. The poorer villagers found food from the offering plates in their homes, with intricate ice statuettes to mark it as a blessing.

The little thief, little god was found in the ice, making another one of the intricate sculptures of his. He was small and reminiscent of Mystique in various ways, half dressed in baggy leathers and furs.

He had stood up, and grown up.

A young man, not yet in his twenties, blue and painfully thin, his strange markings, scars, only accentuating the fact. The clothing now fit him, the remains of travel clothing. Fine travel clothing if he had his guess with the trim and embroidery. Most of it was missing because the boy had eaten it out of hunger.

Later Sabertooth would tell him in private that the leather was good, treated with brains and tanned in the old ways, not with more modern chemicals.

The man held himself regally and tilted his head at them in acknowledgement. "I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, who are you who follow the footsteps of my mind that I should not slay you for your trespass upon my domain?"

"Yeah right you're a god, little brat."

"Fine hunting hounds you have, good sir."

Magneto held up his hand to halt Sabertooth as he advanced, and looked keenly over to Emma.

The boy spoke German. They were in Iceland. Sabertooth had understood and responded in English.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haugr -- old Norse meaning a small hill or mound  
> Toft -- old Norse meaning homestead
> 
> Sorry that this is late, but new material!


	4. Refractions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit from Emma's perspective.
> 
> Chuchutu, sorry this took so long, this one is for you!

Emma's awareness had blanketed over the village like a spider silk veil, their thoughts and fears transmuted to her like the twitches of flies caught in her web, and visions through fiber optics.

There were old stories here, she heard them from the creaking minds of the elderly. Old stories that were not the same as the newer ones. The stories of old were tired retellings of little people who lived in rocks and mounds.

No, the new tales were of a being measured in feet, not inches. One that was mischievous as it was vicious, hungry as winter, and as merciless as the ice.

There was no psychic stain in this place besides her own, which was frightening.

There was an old man whom had been cut in the night, bit by bit so none would notice. Just scratches they never healed because he was cut again and again, provoking infection until his hand fell off. There were cuts elsewhere too, starting now, torturing the man with foreknowledge, and all his liquor was gone.

No one cared though, it was open knowledge he had beaten his wife to death many years ago during a winter. By the time of thaw all the proof was gone. But everyone knew for he was ever deep in his drink before it was all stolen by the spirits.

The boy who who tortured the dogs, his memories were like a smudged oil painting. They were nightmares of a forest vaguely wrong, filled with ice sculptures of his own features warped and eyes bulging. Laughter and ice daggers and a huge icy dog barking and howling at his heels; running in circles and leaving only pawprints behind.

These were true memories. If they were not, then they were up against someone beyond her caliber and approaching the vaunted level of Charles Xavier.

These were true memories; a child lured out into a forest and made well confused by a cunning mind in an environment could control it as he willed.

"He'd be dangerous to pursue in his chosen environment," which was her way of saying he wasn't completely feral and thus acceptable for their aims.

"He?"

Emma shrugged and examined the terror inducing image that had been burned into the boys mind, "He," she affirmed. "The boy in the village claims to have been chased by an ice werewolf. It was our mutant--he formed the ice around himself into the form of a wolf and was somewhat visible inside." And nude, "So yes, definitely male."

"Can you reach out to him?"

She didn't respond to such an insulting question, instead she shrugged deeper into her white fur cloak and closed her eyes. Of course she could reach.

She cast her web further afield, settling over a surprising wealth of life. Most of it sleepy, low rumbles of sub-sentient animals. And there, in the center of a dead zone, a brilliant diamond like mind. She could feel his ego and an all consuming hungers. Yes, there was more than one, though the physical one overshadowed the others. She couldn't pick it apart passively like this

She cloaked her presence and touched him, slipping into his mind like a whisper.

She just had enough time to register that there had been another's touch on the boy's brain, his startlement. His black rage.

She had a brief image of suddenly being in a shallow bowl of ice, markings at the edges, and then she was locked out like a steel trap.

"He has enough experience to lock me out," she said mildly. "I could push through, but he is angry, and someone has done something to his mind. Recently." 

"What?"

"I do not know. But it was pervasive." Huge. "I know where he is, I can still feel him now, so I can lead us. You didn't need to bring your beast."

"Keh, go get frozen on your own then."

"He is right, we need his skills to reach the child, and would have needed them even more so if the child had been a psychic and able to cloak themselves from you? No. Lead on, Miss Frost, and do apologize when we find him, won't you?"

His abilities as a low level shape-shifter were intriguing, and she shifted her weight as he insulted her. A hunting dog was she? A finer way to say 'bitch,' and she resented being counted as Saber-tooth's number. Still, she owed Magneto. "I apologize that I disturbed you," she said with a sweet smile and leaning forward a bit.

A boy had no right to look that arch, to sneer so at her. "Your words betray you, woman. That was not apologizing for your trespass into my domain without notice, you are apologizing that you were caught. Wanderers are expected occasionally in town thus I shall forgive you for that, but my mind is _mine_." His lips thinned, pinking with blood, "Unless you miss my guess, you also wove your way into their minds as well? They are under my protection."

Pipsqueak. She could crush his mind with her own. Crush him with her own hands if she turned to diamond. But she kept her anger from her face. "Ah. I apologize for that as well. It was rude for me to intrude, but we were seeking you out, for rumors of you have traveled far. We have given no injury to your people, and I hope I have not harmed you?"

He snorted, and tipped his head once in admittance. Despite the block he still had up she could feel from him a sense of acknowledgement to her. "You have not, and you have been quick to admit fault and ask for forgiveness." _Father would wish me to be merciful,_ she tasted the words suddenly through the steel. "However, your actions also weigh on your commander," bloody eyes slid over to Magneto.

Magneto taught her a lesson. He spoke in German as he bowed slightly.

"I see. It still reflects badly upon you, but such things I think we can put aside. Manners corrected, let me extend my own," the boy responded in english as he spread his arms.

Wait, English. She was blinking dumbfounded even as the snow compacted into fanciful ice chairs and a table. No, it was an optical illusion, the things had already been under the snow, he was lowering them snow shoes and all to the ground where he kept the structures, the deep snow as walls to hide them from eyes and wind.

He served them vodka in ice goblets, and salt elk from his meager stores. She could count every rib on him, and felt the determination radiating from him. This was custom. This was duty. He had no choice.

Magneto spoke again, in something she suspected was Hebrew.

"Because I am a god and a prince. They are under my protection and it is my duty to render judgement if no others can. The food is my rightful due, and with it I tend to them in return. What else would I do?" That last part had the feeling of duty, and expectations, not actual desires.

French. She recognized the word brotherhood and a few others.

"I am not kin to you, even if they are as...different as I. My father put me here," Magneto said something else, "No...I wasn't ordered to stay. But I feel I must."

Chinese. She didn't feel any psychic echo from the other...mutant. Only a strong relief to be actually able to talk to other people.

Magneto was making a point.

"There were those who would pursue me. I have lost them in the cold, they are no match for me here."

"Here you are hiding as one being like yourself in miles. Come with me and you will be one amongst many with many to hide you, to converse with, and plenty to eat and drink."

In the end the not-mutant agreed to come with them, the temptations and loneliness weighing too much compared to his self declared 'duty,' three sets of eyes that praised his strength and guided him away.


	5. Shatter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki is Loki, he says so. He proves it so.

Magneto has a ship, sleek and rather flat, like a skipping stone mated with a bird.

Which was unsurprising, it was meant to fly through the air, and Loki could smell the kiss of space on it's feathers, where it might be like that stone and skip across atmosphere instead of water. The dimensions were about right for it, and the folded hidden panels as well.

He said no such things though, some might call it a lie, they were fools.

_He was too busy chasing down the thought the memories, trying to pry loose another scrap of power barred from him. Sometimes it tickled at the edges of memory, of his vision. Like to hear thunder, and know it was his brother, but not know his name._

There is food, enough to make his shrunken stomach somewhat happy. Enough to whet his appetite. He cleans his plate utterly to make a point, his fork scraping like discordant music to gather the last bit of flavor.

Magneto is a clever man.

Loki indulges both of them with discussion, is pleased with his grasp of knowledge and how it picks at the great stones blocking his own.

Magneto approves of power, of his studies, is curious of magic and not at all dismissive. The scraps of higher physics Loki remembers are not something humans have fully grasped yet, but Magneto tries and has insights that almost fit. He adds what humans have discovered.

He helps.

Loki thinks them both wise.

\--

The, mansion is old and drab, uncared for. It is far superior to anything of ice though.

_Loki hates the ice. That may be the second reason he dislikes Miss Frost._

\--

Magneto had made calls, manipulating the metals and computers around him directly with his powers. This being was hungry, and strange.

It had been fascinating to see him eat, and not even a bulge on that emaciated stomach showed up. But he was a shapeshifter, and in that small adolescent form, perhaps the look of frailty was a lie? Did it waste less power? For Mystique that would be her true form, but by the clothing the elder form would be the true one.

_When he compared pictures there would be a strange difference. It happened in front of his eyes so smoothly he hadn't seen it. Muscles had grown slightly, corded, the body itself had filled in when provided fuel right before his eyes._

Magneto was pleased he had called a head for excessive catering* along with a set of clothing.

"Loki, you are a marvel. However, I must confess to doubt as to the absolutes of your identity."

"I am no sacrificed god to accept confessions, nor is it the way of," he almost hesitated, almost trailed off, "my people to require worship. They are pleasant. We live with or without."

Emma knew of his apathy, and she had a sharp tongue, it was one thing he approved of about her. "No need for table scraps them, hmm?"

Loki smiled, as much to put her off as to ease Magneto's mind. "Sacrifices strengthen a god. To lack doubt is to be a fool. I assume you want permission for her to see proof of my mind before we attend dinner?"

"Indeed. Others of the Brotherhood will be here by the end. I apologize for the state of things, it is necessary for it to be hidden, and is only a temporary safe-house for you."

"Mmm, let us see your cellars then, my mind is often unpleasant." He doubted there would be a keg to tap or wine, it would suffice.

\--

They sat at a table, small, exactly sixty degrees apart, yet utterly focused on him.

It was cool down here.

"He is...very old."

"Several centuries as you would measure it."

The door was well locked.

"It's beautiful."

"Not all of it, but yes."

It was dusty.

"What is this block?"

"The large one is what my father placed for my banishment, the others are for your protection."

The trap was laid.

"Would you like me to help you with them?"

Loki smiled, and uttered the truth, "I would like it. I do not think you can. Try any door."

The walls were thick.

She reached for a smaller one, one marked with his own powers not father's. He could feel her recognize it.

"I wouldn't."

She screamed.

She turned to ice, no, diamond, and she was still screaming. Loki knew he had been right to dislike her.

Really, it hadn't been that bad.

"I did warn her."

\--

Upstairs it was interesting. A moulty group of young warriors being held off from a magnificent spread by guards armed with guns and brandishing ladles.

There were introductions, and Loki was polite.

Until he wasn't.

"I asked for your names, not your kennings."

There was scowling, "Lance Avlers," ground out the one who held himself roughly as a leader.

Loki's smile was lovely when he wished it to be, "Most clever!" Lies were often softer than truths, but Loki reveled when the truth eased the way.

Feathers smoothed the rest of the introductions proceeded well.

"Frederick Dukes," a meaty hand enveloped his own.

"My pleasure."

"PietroMaximoff."

Ah, quickness and coloring, "Maximum movement," he said in reply and was rewarded a flash of teeth faster than his own.

"Mortimer Toynbee," said the one who called himself Toad at last. Unfitting, he held himself more like a frog. "Uh...so what's that noise?"

"Miss Frost is screaming, she wandered where she should not have."

"Uh..."

"Never mind!" Blob pushed his smaller companion to the side and Loki felt a sort of instant connection, "We can eat now," with both of them.

They sat down, and they ate, Loki helping himself to large potions to his plate, Frederick not bothering, and...well Loki couldn't tell if Pietro was putting down the food or not.

A tongue lashed out, "Is your aim very good?"

"Only the best."

"Do be careful to not pick up any bones though."

"Ooh, good call."

Eventually he could not stand it. Loki sucked on his tongue and teeth loudly, his fork making a scraping noise on the plate. "Would you eat more neatly," he said primly though he wanted to growl. His stomach was roaring and he couldn't bare the mess.

"But...I'm hungry, and so are you," the large boy pointed at Loki's well burdened plate and the neat stack of cracked bones on the plate next to him.

This wasn't about manners. "Food that's," not on the floor, both of them would probably eat it, Loki had, "not in your mouth is food that's not in your stomach." The boy was big and slow, a bit like Thor and Volstaag's worst qualities smashed together and amplified. "Observe."

Loki demonstrated his eating technique, the bites and how he barely chewed when hungry, how he cleaned the bone with his teeth and cracked it between his jaws to suck it dry.

"You're pretty good."

"Pretty good? That sounds as a challenge to me," Loki smirked, tasting the air like his son did with a forked tongue. Easing relations.

"You're on!"

They ate. And they ate. Fredrick manners were slightly improved, less food wasted. Enough to be bearable to the half starved boy.

They ate, and cleaned the whole pig, Lance and Mortimer stopping first to stare, and then Pietro. Many faces were made when Loki savored the sweet meats**.

In the end they were both leaning back, satisfied, Loki picking out a last bit of marrow from a bone.

Magneto surveyed the carnage of the table, and moved his head slightly to stare directly at Loki.

"Four hours ago you ate a whole deer."

"I was hungry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * CateringVille, for all your villainous catering needs.
> 
> ** Sweet Meats means sweets, but also brains of an animal. Occasionally also the guts.

**Author's Note:**

> Hullo the fandom! If you see anything wrong, tell me! If you want clarification, merely ask! I thrive on squee and thought!


End file.
